


The Habits of Dwarves

by Daughter of Durin (AWritersLife)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: 5+1, BotFA spoilers - Freeform, Canon Divergence, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Some Humor, Spoilers, Spoilers: BOTFA, angst fest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:59:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2806919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AWritersLife/pseuds/Daughter%20of%20Durin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Habits of Dwarves<br/>or<br/>Don’t Bother Knocking<br/>or<br/>Five Times the Dwarves Don’t Knock on Bilbo’s Door, and the One Time They Were Already There</p>
<p>CONTAINS BOTFA SPOILERS</p>
<p>Written for the kinkmeme prompt:<br/>The Company takes Bilbo's statement about not bothering to knock a bit too seriously. They begin to show up at all hours of the day. Bilbo might be in bed at two in the morning and hear noise from the kitchen. Maybe he'll be in the shower in the early morning and suddenly the bathroom door opens. Etc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1 - Teatime

**Author's Note:**

> This was really meant to have more humor in it, and hopefully it will in the middle-parts. Fingers crossed! Hope OP likes it.

The first time Bilbo sees his newfound friends after leaving Erebor, they come at precisely 4’o’clock, keeping to the invitation Bilbo gave them a month or so ago. They are, for the most part, the same raucous group they were when Bilbo met them so long ago—they sing, they eat like starved beasts, and they throw around the dishes (though this last, Bilbo no longer fears after seeing how agile Dwarves can be). There are the dark spots in their joyous reunion, however; the spots where Fili, Kili and Thorin once sat stay bare, and Bilbo catches himself staring more than once toward the head of the table, lost in thought and stinging memory until one of the Dwarves claps him on the shoulder.

He looks up the latest time this happens to meet Balin’s gaze, and the Hobbit knows the elder Dwarf understands his despair. Balin nods toward the door and Bilbo follows him out into the hall, a little way away from the noise. 

“How was the—” Bilbo’s voice catches in his throat, the question he’s been wanting to ask refusing to pass his lips. He’s quiet for a moment, breathing through his nose and staring somewhere around Balin’s feet before he manages to restart with a new question. “What’s Dain like? As—as King under the Mountain and all.” 

“Well, we were lucky enough that he had experience as a Dwarf Lord.” Balin shrugs, his tone almost indifferent, but Bilbo senses the unease, the exhaustion that comes from losing someone so dear that it never truly leaves you. “No sign of the Dragon Sickness in him, and with his numbers we’re steady at work again. His son is growing well as a prince and proper heir, as well.”

“He has a son?” 

“Yes.” Balin’s lips press together briefly, and he seems to hesitate for the briefest of moments. “And if he is ever to pass, one with the name of Thorin will be crowned King once more.” 

A shot of pain, swifter than the Eagles and sharper than the best Elf-made blade, pierces through Bilbo’s chest, and he looks down to see the offending weapon but only finds his own hands against his chest. He draws a ragged breath and curls slightly into himself for protection, keeping his eyes down as he shakes his head. When he can finally breathe without pain again, he works his jaw, trying to come up with the words to say, but Balin interrupts him before he can start.

“They’ve built a shrine in Thorin II’s honor.” The elder Dwarf speaks softly, quietly, and Bilbo wonders if Balin knows well the pain he is now facing and unable to control. “Given your history with Thorin, and with us in the original Company, we felt you deserved to know.” 

Bilbo has finally obtained once more the ability to breathe, but he cannot yet look up at his friend. “I can’t go,” he whispers. “I can’t, Balin, you know that. I couldn’t even go to the funeral, let alone a shrine. Besides, if I leave again…” He chuckles quietly, remembering the laughter from the Dwarves when he regaled the tale earlier of returning to his home to find his belongings being auctioned off. “I’m quite afraid I’ll have to stay in Erebor, or nail all of my belongings down before I go.” 

Balin’s chuckle brings some light back to the old Dwarf’s face, and he claps Bilbo on the shoulder once more. “You are always welcome, Master Burglar; Dain has asked us to pass that message on.” With that, they return to the party, and Bilbo resolutely ignores the head of the table when Gandalf shows up and entertains the Company with some of his favorite smoke rings.


	2. 2 - Bathtime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have been trying for humor, but I can't do it very well. I hope it's still enjoyable!

The second time it happens, Bilbo is at first unawares. After a terrifically exhausting day researching and figuring out and then planting his acorn in the perfect way so that he could watch it grow into a strong oak (the irony not lost on him, only forced out of focus should he lose himself in memory once again), he is sitting in a hot bath full of soap bubbles, sunk up to his chin as he absently scrubs at his dirty hands and hums a tune he can’t quite remember picking up. He ducks his head under the water with a sigh, closing his eyes tightly. He tries to concentrate on what he’ll have for supper, but instead figures out the song stuck in his head.

A faint, muffled sound catches his attention and he lifts his head out of the water, opening his eyes and frowning, listening closely. The frown deepens when he hears sounds of movement about the house, but just as he’s considering getting out of his rather comfortable bath to investigate, the bathroom door opens with a bang. 

“There you are, Bilbo!” Ori says cheerfully, somehow unawares of both the shock and the embarrassment Bilbo feels at being caught in the bath with unexpected visitors, though if it were anyone he would prefer it be someone from the Company. “We were hoping you were home, couldn’t find you at first!”

“Um—I’m sorry?” Bilbo says automatically, though he really has little to apologize for. “I—I’ll be done with my bath in just a moment, you’re welcome to the pantry—”

“Lovely, Nori and Dori are already there.” Ori beams. “We won’t trouble you too long, just passing through really.”

“It’s fine.” Bilbo gives a smile in return. “Really, these days I think I rather prefer the company of Dwarves.” 

Ori grins and nods, dashing out again. Bilbo doesn’t try to catch him on the way out, tell him to close the door. He hurries to scrub the rest of the dirt off of his skin, and finds himself grinning as he gets out of the bath and dresses, dashing off to join the brothers for supper, quickly gathering together a worthy feast. 

“What brought you all this way?” he asks when they’ve settled into their seats, the three Dwarves sitting across from him as they tucked in. “Not that I don’t like you being here, obviously, I just wasn’t expecting another reunion so soon.” 

The three brothers glance among themselves, and Dori, the slowest to get his mouth full of food, was made to answer. “Well, the matter of your contract from our adventure came up in a meeting of the Council before we started our journey west. It’s nothing bad,” he continues quickly, seeing Bilbo’s alarmed concern, “they only feel you haven’t received proper compensation for your fourteenth share.” 

“I took a chest full of gold and jewels.” Bilbo’s head tilts to the side. “That’s more than enough for someone like me… and I still count the Arkenstone towards my share.” 

Nori chuckles, taking a swig of his ale and shrugging. “We know that, Bilbo. We know you, but Dain and the Council do not and so they are worried you may one day see the need to come back and get your rightful payment.” 

“I can’t come back to Erebor.” Bilbo shakes his head, becoming incredibly interested in the roll in his hands. “I… I don’t belong there, we knew that before I even got there. I belong here, with my books. I couldn’t be of use in the mines or with blacksmithing. I would only be in the way.”

“I highly doubt that.” Nori reaches out, nudging Bilbo’s arm playfully. “You were a damn good burglar, once you got your feet under you.”

“It was a one-time thing,” Bilbo says firmly, looking up at the three brothers. “I’ll write an official paper, something that will mollify the Council that I won’t return for their gold. But I won’t return to Erebor. My heart—my body, it wouldn’t manage the adventure a second time.” 

And it is left like that, as the small party continues on to lighter, less tense conversation.


	3. 3 - Nighttime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so delayed. Life got in the way.

The third time the Dwarves show up at Bilbo's door (uninvited, though technically not by Bilbo's open invitation over a year ago, but definitely unexpected, which Bilbo has come to be used to when it comes to Dwarves), they come in the night. It has been a long time since Bilbo has seen them, and a part of him has been wondering if they have forgotten him. He doesn't blame them, of course; Erebor is most likely still being rebuilt after Smaug's desolation of the place, and the Company still seemed supportive enough of Dain the last time Bilbo saw them, so they were probably working on making sure the new King under the Mountain has found his place and the honor to go with it. Still, what Bilbo told Ori during the Dwarves' last visit has rung true; he has never felt more alone in the Shire, with no one to listen to his stories except the children whose parents quickly drag them away, glaring at the strange Hobbit who acts far more Tookish than anyone would like. 

Bilbo is torn away from sleep—something he rarely gets these days, so he cherishes the moments when his mind calms enough to allow him a full night's rest—by a great banging around. He is out of his bed in an instant, though not in the great leaping way he would have liked to accomplish; the banging is interrupted by the loud thump of the Hobbit hitting the floor, and Bilbo gives a groan, rubbing the back of his head. ‘Curse the burglar making such a racket!’ Bilbo thinks, kicking away his twisted blankets and getting to his feet just as the door swings open. 

“Bilbo!”

The Hobbit gives a start at hearing the familiar voice, staring over at the dark figure in the doorway. “G-Gloin?” 

“We were looking for you,” the axe-wielder says cheerfully, moving forward to grab Bilbo by the wrist and pull him out of the room. 

“Wha—where are we going?” Bilbo uses his free hand to try and rub at his eyes and banish his sleepiness. 

“Nowhere, only the kitchen,” Gloin says, as if it is obvious. “You don’t know what day it is, lad?”

“I—” Bilbo frowns, racking his brains for the date. 

“’Tis the anniversary!” They reach the kitchen, where the entire remaining Company are setting to work gathering a feast at the table. “Of the reclaiming of Erebor!”

Bilbo stares around. “It’s been a year already? Truly?”

“Aye.” Balin stops by them, giving a smile. “Over a year since the journey began.” 

Bilbo smiles back, before a thought occurs to him. “You should be back home, celebrating! I can only imagine the feasts such a joyous event would bring for your people.” 

“Ah, the feasts and celebration will last for weeks to come,” Bombur says from his end of the table. “They’ll spend half the year celebrating, but we wanted to celebrate with our Master Burglar, without whom we would have no Erebor at all.” 

Bilbo is slightly taken aback, but all the same he is suddenly happy that he was woken at a strange hour, and humbled that the Company would go from their reclaimed home to celebrate with him instead. So, with Gloin’s prodding, he joins the party, and when the singing begins in raucous glee, he joins in.


	4. 4 - Partytime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahah I am the worst person ever for letting life's stresses distract me from this fic. I'm so sorry and I hope you enjoy this chapter. (As a gift in apology I will (probably) be writing a separate Bagginshield PWP fic soon~?)
> 
> Warning: Canon divergence is now afoot with this chapter, as I want the Dwarves to meet little Frodo and not have it have been 40-some years since they last came to visit. (Also my head-Frodo has a mind of his own. Just warning that as well.)

The Dwarves have discovered what day Bilbo's birthday falls upon. (Bilbo suspects involvement from Gandalf, but the wizard denies it every time he asks with a gleam in his eye.) First only came the correspondence, sent by Erebor Raven or a passer-through to the Blue Mountains; birthday cards, carved trinkets, things Bilbo may laugh at but treasure all the same. He covets them, keeps them tucked away with the chest of gold he brought back to his hobbit-hole, and when he's feeling especially lonely he will take the chest out, fingers brushing the coin inside as he scoops out the letters and cards and reads them, clutching the miniatures to his chest and forcing back tears. He has become a strange Hobbit, like his mother, grandfather and great-grandfather before him--he longs for another adventure, and chafes at the slow life he now leads. 

This changes, a little, when tragedy strikes his family and he becomes the guardian of his little nephew, Frodo. He's quite young when Frodo is bequeathed to him. (Quite surprisingly, as he was such a strange Hobbit in the opinions of the rest of the Shire, and none would know the words in the letter from his second cousin that was given to him--Drogo, as much as a well-to-do Hobbit as any other non-Took, knew his son's tendency for adventure and had enjoyed seeing the bright look in his son's eyes even as he scolded him for his adventures. He knew that only Bilbo would keep that light afire, even in the smallest of ways.) He spends weeks getting used to someone in the house again, and a part of him is glad there are no Dwarves knocking on his door and scaring his nephew.

Frodo is as curious as a Hobbit can be, though, and soon he finds the chest of Bilbo's treasures. A part of Bilbo is protective--extremely so, causing a raging turn in his stomach when Frodo brings him the locked chest, wanting to snatch it away immediately and tell him to never touch it again--but instead he shows Frodo the contents, and begins telling him the stories of his journey with the Company. Soon enough, Frodo asks for a story every night at bedtime, and Bilbo finds the weights that have rested in his chest for nearly a decade begin to lift as he gifts Frodo with his tales. The one thing he does not mention at all is the Ring, which stays on his person at all times. (He remembers Gandalf's warning well, even if he lied to the wizard about its whereabouts.)

The next time the Dwarves come to call is during a private little birthday party Frodo insisted on throwing for the two of them, complete with cakes for each meal. They come around teatime, the door opening with a bang loud enough to send Frodo tumbling out of his chair and Bilbo jumping to his feet and running down the hall. With a cry of joy he pulls the closest Dwarf into his embrace, quickly smothered in a Dwarf-pile until he pleads for air. There are sudden noises of surprise and not only for Bilbo's benefit do the Dwarves scramble off him; Bilbo lifts his head to see that Frodo has gotten over his shock and is standing in the hallway, staring with wide blue eyes at the crowd at the door. 

Bilbo gets to his feet and dusts himself off, clearing his throat. "Right, yes. Everyone, this is my nephew Frodo. He lives with me now. Frodo, this is Balin, Dwalin..." And down the list he goes, slowly realizing the whole of the surviving Company has come to celebrate his birthday. Once he's done and before the tears start to fall he turns away, calling them all back to the dining room for cake. 

The Dwarves scramble with the news that it is also Frodo's birthday, and Bilbo happily relinquishes the trinkets brought for him this year, though he keeps the letters for himself. The Dwarves seem delighted when Frodo compliments the craftsmanship of each piece before asking for more stories about the journey, or anything else the Dwarves would like to tell him. Gandalf shows up at dinner, and gives a lovely show of smoke rings and fireworks for the group outside after the food and drink is gone. 

"He's good for you," Dwalin says gruffly as he stands next to Bilbo. "The lad. You seem happier, Master Burglar." 

"He's very good," Bilbo agrees, keeping his eye on the skies as the finale of the fireworks begin to fire off. "He's... he's excellent. It was an honor to know my cousins trusted me to take care of him." He took a deep breath, finally looking over at the Dwarf. "He's an entirely new adventure, and I'm glad all of you got to meet him. And him you." 

"We are honored to stay in your good graces, Bilbo," Dwalin murmurs, patting Bilbo on the back. "If we have another adventure, we will have to remember to bring an extra pony." Bilbo's eyes widen and Dwalin laughs. "Only kidding. The lad is even more fragile than you were." 

Bilbo chuckles too, his eyes moving to find his nephew, who had become bored with the fireworks near the end and began regaling the nearest Dwarf with his own tales of adventure. He is sitting in Balin's lap, doing an impeccable imitation of Farmer Maggot, and Bilbo knows the future will certainly be brighter with the young Hobbit in his midst.


End file.
